


The Letters

by thecheshirepussycat



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, Dunkirk Au, Fluff, I mean kind of, Letters, Love, M/M, There's not much to this tbh, World War II, the movie inspired this to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:06:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6972214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecheshirepussycat/pseuds/thecheshirepussycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Harry in Dunkirk.</p><p>Correspondence between Louis Tomlinson, a writer from London who is writing about the children sent to the country to escape war, and his lover Harry Styles, an officer in the British Military stationed somewhere in France.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Letters

**Author's Note:**

> this is so fucking short and if you follow me on tumblr you've already read these under my "[Dunkirk Drabbles](http://the-cheshire-pussy-cat.tumblr.com/tagged/dunkirk-drabble)" tag. By popular request i have put them all together and edited them for here on archive :)

Harry’s first letter comes only two weeks after Louis said his goodbyes at the train station. He’s about to leave for the country home, but thankfully his landlady was able to catch him just in time, otherwise Louis would be waiting even longer to hear from his lover.

He sits down on the train, in one of the back cars, far away from any other guests, and closes the car door for privacy. If anyone else wants to join, Louis would be happy to let them in, but for now, while the train is still on its first stop, he would much rather read Harry’s letter alone. The written address print already has Louis’ heart racing, and he stares at Harry’s writing, messy and smudged, as though he was in a hurry to get it sent.

                  _My Dearest Louis,                                           July 17, 1940._

_I know it seems so soon for me to be writing, in all honesty this letter is being written on only my first night at the encampment, but just a few hours away from you is far too long. I hope the war goes swiftly, but if the taking of Paris last month is anything to go by, I’m afraid that may be but a pipe dream. I’m not allowed to send too much information, for fear of this letter being intercepted by the Nazis, but I will say I have been stationed in France._

_It’s such a beautiful country, or rather it would be if it weren’t for the destruction of war. I would love to take you here when it’s all over. I would love to show you the sights and introduce you to the wonderful people I have met so far, and will meet as time goes on. I hope they are still here when this is all over._

_You said before I left, that you do not understand why I had to go, but as I look around this city we are meant to liberate and protect, it becomes more and more clear that this is what I am meant to do. I am meant to help these people, my Dear Louis, and I hope with time you will understand this. I miss you already, my darling, and I know that longing will only get worse. This first lonely night will be the longest of my life since you entered it, and I will be dreaming of you._

_Distant memories of your smile will be what gets me through the hard days. The lingering traces of your touches to my skin, your lips to mine, will help me remember that I have something to live for. It will keep me from doing something stupid and reckless, so I may one day come home to you._

_May I end this first letter by saying how proud I am of you? The children you are going to look after and write about will love you, and only benefit from your guidance. They will look to you as the parents they were forced to leave behind, and you will become a home to them as well. I cannot think of a better person in the world to take over this task. You inspire me, Louis Tomlinson._

_Forever Your Love,_

_Harry Styles._

Louis reads the letter over and over, memorizing each and every one of Harry’s words, and each and every one of his pen strokes. He will write back tonight, that is definitely for sure, but what could he possibly have to say? Harry is his hero, but he is also Louis’ truest, deepest love. Two weeks without him have been pure torture, a kind Louis would not wish on his darkest enemy. He only wishes the children give him comfort in his time of need, and that he can focus enough on his job, and not on his worries. 

He folds up the letter and places it in the inside pocket of his jacket, on the upper left side. The letter will remain there, over his heart, until he finds the courage to take it out and read it again that night.

***

“Louis! You got another letter from Harry!” one of the many children Louis looks after calls to him from the front door of the mansion. He comes running in only moments later, waving the letter in his little hand, smiling up at Louis so brightly. “Are you gonna read it to us like last time?”

It’s been seven months. Louis has spent his first Christmas without Harry. He has spent his first birthday without Harry, and the same for Harry’s. And in those months Louis got a letter from Harry every two weeks, and of those he has read almost every single one to the children. Something about hearing it directly from a soldier lifts their spirits, even though most times Louis can only get through half a letter before he has to stop. The notes from his lover either end up making him cry, or they start getting a little too smut-like for children’s ears. But Louis reads them like the news to the kids, and he answers all their questions about Harry and him, and so far none of them have objected. They all can’t wait to meet Harry once it’s over. Louis can’t wait to see him again.

“Of course I will!” Louis smiles down at the little tike, taking the letter delicately in his own hands. “You go get everyone and meet me in the study, okay? I’m just going to wrap up some notes, and then it can be story time.”

What started out as a bi-weekly newsletter to the London papers about the country children, has become the most important writing of Louis’ life. His editor gets letters every day about the stories, asking how the children are doing, what people can do to help. The most they can do is send food and clothes to the safety houses, and pray the war ends soon so they can be reunited with their families.

In the study, all twenty of the children gather around and wait to hear the news from Harry Styles, all eagerly waiting for Louis to get settled. He sits down on the biggest lounge chair in the room, which only serves to make him look even smaller than he already is, and he carefully opens the letter. He always reads over it himself first, just to make sure what is written is okay for the young ones to hear.

                      _My Darling Louis,                                          February 20, 1941_

_For the first time in so long it seems I'm writing to you with good news, Louis. It’s the least good it could possibly be, but I’m optimistic. I’ve been promoted to Captain of my regiment! Our first Cap was moved out to takeover for another who died in the line of duty, and I guess I've impressed enough to be the new leader. The job is still the same, however, protect this city and hope for the best. We may be moved around France to other locations once things have stabilized here, but nothing is for sure._

_Do not think for one moment this means I will be staying longer. I promise as soon as this is over, I will come home to you and never leave you again. Missing Christmas and your birthday almost broke me entirely, and I can’t imagine going through more years of this. All I want is to see you again, hold you in my arms and know that I am truly home. Sometimes I trick myself in a dream of you. I dream of being in our apartment in London, waking up to you and fresh tea, and your beautiful smile. I dream of romantic nights in a freed Paris, where we…_

“Oh, um, that’s not for you to hear,” Louis says, quickly, skipping to the next section. He will definitely be reading that part again tonight when he’s cold and alone. 

_I hope all the children are doing well, and please tell them all I cannot wait to meet them too. Congratulate them all for their bravery, and remind them I fight every day so they may return to their families soon. Make sure they never give up hope, just like I never will. Kiss them each before bed every night for me, and hug them tight when they’re sad. I know you take very good care of them. The rest of the regiment wants me to send a message to them as well, and that is that we are all thinking of you. You kids are what keep us fighting._

_I look forward to your next letter, and the next installment in your newsletter series. Until then, you will be in my dreams and in my every thought._

_Forever yours,_

_Captain Harry Styles_

“And that’s all tonight! Very good news about his promotion!” Louis says as he tucks away the letter for later.

All the children agree, and they always remind Louis that Harry is their hero, and he just wishes Harry could see for himself the hope he brings.

***

The children found Louis’ stack of old pictures while he was out getting the groceries with some of the other caretakers. They’re his most prized possessions, the only sources of reminder of Harry’s smile, his eyes, his dimples, and everything beautiful about him. He doesn’t mind that the kids were looking, but he just wished they’d asked first. If anything happened to those pictures, he wouldn’t know what to do.

It does make for a very cute story to tell Harry in his next letter.

                    _My Captain Harry,                                         June 13, 1941_

_You’ll never believe how my day went today. I was out with Lydia and Jake getting more food from the market, and I came back to the mansion to find all of your pictures hung up in the main living room. It seems you are quite the inspiration to all the boys, and quite a few of the girls would like to marry you now. It never occurred to me, that for all I have told them about you, they never saw a picture. You are so handsome you charm strangers without even formally meeting them._

_I’ve decided to let them keep the pictures up, because they have all promised to take good care of them and not harm them. All except my favorite, of course. You know the one, of you during our first Christmas together, walking in the snow on the way to your mother’s house. I remember perfectly how you had just let me use your new camera for the first time, and the only picture I took was this one. You were covered in snow and had on that ratty jacket and those ripped gloves, your favorite hat, and your hair was so long and beautiful. I miss that hair. Promise you will grow it back for me when the war is over._

_I still can’t wrap my head around your promotion, even though it’s been months. Captain Styles is just so sexy. Thinking about you in your uniform is sexy._

_I miss you more and more every day, as you know. And all the girls planning their weddings to you have me thinking… I know it isn’t possible, as much as it pains me, but god I would love nothing more than to be married to you._

_With love and one hundred kisses,_

_Louis_

_P.S. Your mother and sister will be sending you a care package soon, hopefully. I already mailed them my contribution as well. We just want you to have some little pieces of home, and unfortunately I couldn’t fit in the box._

 

 

The letter makes Harry smile so much. Covered in dirt and hidden in the barracks, behind trenches and stacks of broken buildings, he smiles for the first time in weeks. He’s lost more men in this year than he’s ever seen, and he knows the war is far from over. How could he tell Louis this? There is a plan to move out of the city, help the citizens escape in small waves, until there is nobody left there for the Nazis to try to take.

Harry thought when he’d been promoted that he would be able to move things along how he wanted, but the higher up generals and colonels still over-rid his orders. The men are losing stamina and motivation, and he’s running out of uplifting speeches to rally them. He knows the success of a mass rescue like he has in mind would be the perfect turning point for them. Again, he’s not going to tell Louis about the hardships. He knows it would only upset Louis, and he needs his boy’s positivity now more than ever.

                            _My Sweet Louis,                                    July 1, 1941_

_You have nothing to worry about as far as all those adorable girls go, there is no competition in my heart when it comes to you. I only worry about how all of them will take the tragic news. Heartbreak is not an easy thing to overcome at that age, but I’m sure you will be there for them._

_As for the picture, I know exactly the one, and it makes me so happy to know you took it with you. Mother says our place is still up, despite the air strikes, but it calms me so much to know that you remembered all the important things to take just in case. The small picture of you that I keep in my pocket watch is starting to fade, paper is just no match for the elements, unlike your beauty._

_New orders come in every day, things never move as fast as I want them to. The men are still hopeful though, and they trust my judgement. I’m starting to work with the locals to formulate some kind of endgame plan, which I cannot go into details about, but I see no other way to solve the conflict here than what I picture. I’ll tell you everything once I’m home._

_Stay solid for me, and stay strong. Knowing you have your strength and your health is what keeps me going out here._

_Love forever and always,_

_Captain Harry Styles._

_P.S. I will most definitely grow my hair back out._

***

It’s a beautiful fall day in September, Louis is watching the children play outside as he writes his latest article. He’s gotten used to life out in the country, and life distant from Harry, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy with it. He’s mostly drifting through life now, waiting for the war to end and for Harry to come home, but in the mean time he’s got his job to do. Sometimes the children distract himself so much with fleeting joy that he forgets Harry isn’t there to share it with him.

It’s been two months since his last letter from Harry, but Louis still sends one every week. The radio news has said that Nazi forces have been cutting off mailed communications in and out of France, and Louis blames that for the lack of letter from his lover. He wishes he knew exactly where Harry was, because every time a new French city is talked about on the radio, he can’t help but wonder if it’s Harry’s. He has no way of knowing if it’s already fallen to the enemy.

He’s planning on writing Harry another message tonight, just a short message about recent events, just a little something so Harry can know he’s still thinking about him. There’s a very big chance that it never gets to him, but what else can Louis do to keep sane?

Suddenly, one of the younger kids is tapping on Louis’ shoulder, nervously getting his attention. “Louis? There are soldiers at the door…”

All of the air escapes Louis’ lungs, and he’s standing up in only moments, running to the mansion. “Oh my-I-I’ll be right in!” 

Could it be? Is it Harry? How could he be home already? Why didn’t he write first? Louis honestly doesn’t care as he runs down the hill, and around the house, not bothering to go all the way through to reach them. He sees two men standing at the front entrance, talking to Lydia, backs to him. Their uniforms are bulky and cover most of their bodies, so Louis can’t tell which one is Harry, so he calls out, “Harry! Are you really-”

They turn around and Louis stops in his tracks, only feet away. Neither one is his Harry, and one holds a small envelope in his hand. Louis starts to shake his head, hand covering up the gasp that leaves his lips. This can’t be happening.

“Are you Louis Tomlinson?” One asks, the one who holds the envelope, face turned down in a serious frown. 

They both look at him sympathetically when he answers, “Y-Yes.”

“We were told to deliver this to you by a Mrs. Anne Styles. We are…very sorry,” the officer continues, holding out the tiny envelope. A telegram.

He’s heard about these telegrams. He has friends back in London who have been given them. Louis starts to cry when he takes it, and says a very soft, “Thank you,” to the officers. They salute him and then make their way over the dirt road, and back to their car. He stands silently still, staring at the telegram.

A few of the children run up behind him, all asking what the telegram says, but he can’t bring himself to open it in front of them. Lydia shushes them and leads them all inside, leaving Louis by himself so the kids don’t have to see his reaction. He sits down on the steps of the porch, hands shaking as he rips open the envelope. With a stuttered breath, he pulls out the telegram, yet still not ready to see it’s message.

            **Louis Tomlinson**

**The Secretary of War desires me to express his deep regret that Captain Harry Styles has been reported Missing In Action since Twenty One July in France. If further details or other information are received you will be promptly notified.**

MIA. Harry is MIA. There’s a chance that he’s still alive out there, but all Louis can possibly think is that he’s gone. His Harry is completely gone.

***

For weeks, months, Louis has been holed up in his private room, no longer writing, no longer playing with the children. Occasionally he leaves the room for meals or chores, but most of the time he stays in bed, reading or crying. A lot of his days go by with him just staring at the ceiling for hours. He’s considering leaving the country completely, abandoning his story and just living out his life in London, air-strikes and all.

Eight months Harry’s been MIA and with every passing day without news, Louis loses more and more hope that he could actually still be out there. Sometimes the children come into his room and sit with him, read him stories and letters from their mothers and fathers. Their sweet words do help some days, because Louis remembers that he’s not the only one struggling. A few of them have already lost people for sure, and the fact that they are still able to smile and have fun reassures Louis that he could possibly find happiness again.

And then sometimes Louis thinks about all those conversations he’d had with Harry about them raising their own family. He remembers Harry talking about taking in orphans after the war, because they can’t have kids of their own. He remembers how happy Harry was talking about their imaginary family.

_"We could always start up an orphanage, and take in every orphan in London!"_

_"Harry," Louis remembers laughing with Harry about, although he would have loved it. "We don't have enough room for all of them!"_

_"Guess you and I will just have to leave the city, then, pity," Harry had chuckled at the thought. "I can't wait to raise any kind of family with you, Lou. You and I would make the perfect pair of parents."_

Those memories only serve to result in even more pain for Louis now.

The last day of the eighth month since Louis got the MIA telegram, he finally emerges from not just his room, but the mansion entirely. It’s a warm spring day, all the kids are playing out in the fields, the heat in the mansion is completely unbearable, and the other caretakers needed help hanging up laundry on the lines. 

He’s been put in charge of bed sheets, farthest away from everyone else, probably a courtesy from the caretakers because of his condition. The children run around him, playing and laughing, enjoying the bright day in the field.

Louis concentrates on the task at hand, hanging up the smallest sheet they have on in the line. He’s putting on the first clothespin when a breeze brushes by, swooping the sheet up just so he has a view of the hills. The sheet falls back down before Louis can really get a good look, but he could swear there was a figure at the top of the hill. He brushes off the thought as he pins the other side of the sheet.

Then, as Louis walks to the other side of the line, to start on hanging up the next sheet, he takes a glance up and…there is a figure. It’s too far away to tell who it is, whether it’s one of the locals or somebody dangerous. They’re just standing at the top of the hill, and the sun is so bright Louis has to cover his eyes. He tries to focus them and that’s when he sees that the man is wearing a uniform, but Louis can’t make out which side it’s from.

He’s heard on the news about sightings of Nazi soldiers in the country. It’s believed that a few of the pilots of grounded planes survived and were wreaking havoc in the peaceful country towns. Bad news if that’s what is happening here.

Louis leaves the basket of wet sheets on the ground and backs away, slowly and behind one of the hung sheets to hide himself. “Kids! Get inside now!”

“Why?” a few of them ask in response, and Louis isn’t about to answer with the truth. He doesn’t want to scare them if this man turns out to be an enemy.

“Just grab everyone and go inside, okay? I-I think a storm might be coming,” Louis tries to convince them, but it’s hardly working.

The skies are too clear for any of them to really believe him, but they start to go inside anyway, most still oblivious to the figure approaching from the hill. That is, until one of them realizes they’ve dropped their book and they turn around to go get it. 

“Wait! I’ll get it, just go inside!” Louis tries to tell him, chasing the little boy about halfway up the closest hill. He catches the boy just as he picks up his book, and pulls him up into his arms, attempting to shield him from the man, but it’s too late.

“Louis? Who is that?” the little boy asks, pointing up the taller hill.

Louis sighs, and looks at where the boy is pointing, glaring at the man. “It’s nobody, okay, just go inside and I-” Louis stops mid-sentence. Now that’s he’s a little closer, he can more clearly see the man walking, rather hobbling, down the hill. He almost drops the child in his arms because…well it just can’t be.

“Louis?”

“I-I,” Louis stutters, eyes widening as his heartbeat picks up. He puts the boy back down gently, because he _would_ drop him if he held on any longer. “G-Go back inside, I’ll take care of this.”

The boy shrugs and runs back down the hill, leaving Louis to stand up to the mystery man alone. But Louis may not be standing for much longer, as his knees have gone so weak they may give out at any moment. He must be seeing things, he has to be. There’s a man in a uniform up the hill, and his mind is playing tricks on him, that must be it. 

Frozen in place, Louis just watches as the man raises a hand above his eyes, shielding them from the sun so he can see Louis better. His other arm is in a sling, and when Louis squints, he can see a bandage wrapped around the man’s head. His face is almost unmistakable now. The smile that forms when the man gets a good look at Louis, could belong to nobody else.

“H-Harry?” It’s barely a whisper, definitely not loud enough for the man on the hill to hear, but Louis is too afraid to be wrong.

The man freezes as well, and then after a moment’s realization, breaks into a run down the hill. Despite his earlier reservations, Louis is sure of it now. The man running towards him is none other than his Harry. His feet catch the message before his brain does, and he starts running to his Harry. Tired as he may be, exhausted from the emotional toll of the last few months, Louis has never run so fast in his life.

“Louis!” That familiar voice, the one of his truest love, the one he has missed for so long, shouts his name. 

Their feet away from each other, and Harry looks older and worn out, but still the same beautiful man that left Louis for war. Louis almost jumps into his arms, but seeing the injuries, his legs about ready to give out, he settles for pulling Harry into the tightest embrace. “Y-You’re home! You’re alive!”

“I am, my Louis, I’m here,” Harry cries, wrapping his good arm around Louis’ back. He presses wet kisses to Louis’ cheek and neck, inhaling the sweet scent of his lover that he missed so much.

Louis can’t even say anything, can’t even take a moment to thank God for bringing Harry home to him. He’s so confused and beyond happy, torn between sobbing and slapping Harry for making him worry so much. Louis just continues to cry, smiling and even laughing because he’s just so relieved. His hands form claws into Harry’s back, as if he could just latch himself on like that and never have to let go. If he did then this would surely still be a dream.

Louis finally gets his bearings together, and he looks up at Harry’s face. The bandage wraps around his forehead, and there’s bruising on his cheeks and jaw. But those green eyes still look at him with the same amount of love as when he left, and those lips still smile just as big. “You’re really here, aren’t you?”

“I really am.”

“H-how? How did you get out here? And where were you?” Louis asks, desperately needing the answers that have been haunting him. “They said you were MIA, I-I got a telegram-”

“I know, I was missing was for a little while,” Harry sighs, eyes filling with sadness. He brings one of his hands to Louis’ cheek, it’s calloused and cut up, but fits just as well as Louis remembers. “The town I was in charge of got attacked by Nazi forces when we were evacuating. I got separated from my battalion, my men had orders to go on without me, so it’s not their fault. But I was helping a family escape. We got all the way to another city when I had to separate from them, and this one was run by the Nazis, so as much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t contact anyone.”

“I understand, but oh my love, why did it have to be you?” Louis asks. His tears are wiped up by Harry’s thumb. “Why did you have to be a hero?”

“Lou, would you love me if I was anything else?”

The real answer is yes, Louis would love Harry if he was the biggest coward in the world, because at least a coward would have come sooner. But as he looks into those big eyes, he sees the bravery and the truth in them, Louis knows he loves the hero in Harry. “I do love you, I love you so much, I-I don’t care about anything else. How did you escape?”

“An older woman in the next village. She was in hiding from them too, but hiding the fact that she wasn’t a Christian,” Harry explains. “Her family had already made it out, they’re in America now, but she had to be left behind. She hid me in her house and helped me recover for the most part, and then together we left. I suppose she’s on the boat to America now as well.”

“That’s so kind, thank God for her,” Louis says. He smiles up at Harry, shaking his head because a part of him still can’t believe it. “When did you get home? Does your mother know?”

“Yes, I went to her first, but I couldn’t stay long,” Harry says, voice shaking. “I-I had to get home to you. I took the first train out this morning and apparently I didn’t get some very good directions but…I’ve found you.”

“Oh Harry!” And finally, Louis gets from Harry what he’s wanted and missed for almost two years. 

He kisses him, a kiss to rival all the rest in all of history. A kiss filled with so much love they lose their balance and fall to the soft ground, but that kiss never breaks. Louis is rather glad the children aren’t outside to see this, as they lie on the ground and embrace each other. The real war may be far from over, but here and now while Harry is kissing Louis again, the world has reached some kind of peace. Harry sneaks his good hand around his neck, having to break the kiss for just a small moment so he can pull off his tags. He smiles at Louis, and places the tags in Louis’ delicate hand, his name shiny and clearly indented. **Cap. Harry E. Styles**.

“I’m never leaving you again, Louis, but these belong to you either way.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis sniffles, curling his small hand around the tags. “Thank you. I’m just glad you’re home safe, though. I don’t need anything else.”

“Well, how about one more thing? It’s, um, well it’s kind of a big deal,” Harry says nervously, fishing around in his pocket. “See, the old woman was kind of wealthy before the war, and she didn’t have much left…but she gave me something as a thank you…” Harry pauses, pulling his hand out of his pocket in a fist. He waits until Louis has put the tags around his neck, and then sits up more so he’s on his side. “I-I know we can’t really, and I know so many people will think poorly of us, but I love you, Louis, I love you more than anything on this earth. I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours, forever. I really mean it this time, I’ve always meant it…” Harry picks up Louis’ left hand, smiling at the way Louis’ eyes go wide. “I want you to marry me, at least in the eyes of God.”

And there in Louis’ hand is a diamond. A diamond perched onto a little gold ring. If he wasn’t already on the ground, Louis would faint. “Harry I…I’ve always been yours, but of course, of course I’ll marry you.”

**_FIN_ **

**Author's Note:**

> look out for my other, more full-sized fics, hopefully coming soon :)


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